Sticky Fingers
by atreriaestus
Summary: Zexion/Demyx. It's rare they get out. It's even rarer Demyx gets his way. ::Mature. For ShadowAili.::


**A/n: **I'm not a fan of this pairing, but it's for a close friend of mine. I promised her I'd write it. Yay for ice cream smut.

**Disclaim:** Insert something witty involving Square-Enix and Disney here.

* * *

Zexion almost groans at that pink tongue. It peaks out from full lips like a sultry snake smelling the air, finally gains bravery and touches the tip to the confection before him. His eyes light up and his mouth encompasses that saccharine, fervent blush on his cheeks with his breath melted away as he continues his ministrations.

He's noticed Demyx likes salty things. … _Not that that … comes from personal experience or anything …_ He would say with a cough.

But as the blonde sitarist before him continues, he can't help the breath leaving his chest and the ache in his throat as the muscles grind. God, he almost wants to move his hips in time, but can't. Won't! He won't!

"Zex? Somethin' wrong?"

"N-no. Just … don't stop."

He blinks innocently, gives a short shrug. "Not like I was planning on it…"

He goes back to his work like an obedient slave to his inner child (or inner sex demon; he's not quite sure), and the ashen-haired man is lost in the ecstasy of his mentality, barely able to stand the friction and tightness of his attire.

"Zexion?"

"Y-yeah, Demyx?"

"You're melting."

"I … I know. I know."

"No, I mean … your ice cream's melting."

It's only then Zexion feels the coldness of his own blue sugar all over his hand, sticky and … and … ew. His face contorts into disgust and as he begins to slip his gloves off, Demyx puts two and two together, and gets 22.

Oh, Zexion's gonna be in a lovely Catch 22.

The blonde's hand is on his wrist faster than he realizes, faster than he can think about it. The ice cream's gone, but the blue's all over his lips and tongue, staining everything.

He wonders if he can't stain … something else.

But it appears Demyx has beaten him to that thought as he brings his legs over the male's lap and hovers there, unzipping his robes slowly to bear inch after inch of glorious flesh.

Zexion raises his hand to touch the tanned and slightly sculpted body, but Demyx stops him, for reasons which the schemer hasn't quite pieced together yet.

It's like a goad, a slow dance, shimming his cute little shoulders out of the black attire to finally stand out against the muggy midnight. The belt is gone with a whip-like motion that barely missed his cheek, and the thought of the sting was just enough to drive him crazy. Zexion tries to raise his hands to help peel the lips of his black pants, but he's swatted away.

One button … two … the slow pull and hiss of the zipper and Zexion thinks he's caught on fire. If only he can have the beautiful man before him right that second, face flushed with need and skin glistening with sweat. He _needs_ him.

And still the blonde has other ideas, parting himself of the rest of his clothing slowly, boots slipping off from the stuffing of the tight black pants. In full glory despite being in public on a dark night, and there is no shame.

No shame at all, Zexion rejoices as the blonde is taking the wrist so full of the sticky ice cream to his … his …

_Oh, god,_ he mentally moans as the youth gives a raspy gasp of pain-laced pleasure. He's--… no, he can't be--… he is! The one before him is using the slate-haired man's unresponsive fingers to prepare himself, riding the digits like they're his saving grace.

It's too long before the elder finally reacts, curving a traitorous fingerprint inside the blonde who inhales his breath so hard it hits the bottom of his lungs like a brick. His hips go wild and unsure for a moment, trying desperately to find that far-off light.

It was with a hazey realization that he slowed his movements. He couldn't let it end this way, teasing his lover with just a viewing. No, to his own dismay, he has to halt his movements, retake the time to separate himself from the sticky fingers.

And Zexion only watches, mesmerized at his brazen actions and only opens his lips to say something when he hears the familiar sound of his own zipper.

"D-dem."

"Yeah?"

The boy doesn't even look up or twitch that smile of his. And that convinces his mind what his libido was aware of the entire time; Demyx wants him just as much.

Zexion finally helps, his dirty hands taking off the coat quickly as he helps his lover rid himself of his boots and pants. And Demyx can only smile at all that pallor, skin so much creamier than his own.

Creamy like vanilla ice cream. And he laps at it like it's just as tasty.

Because it is.

The blonde only gasps again as he settles himself roughly on top of his lover, hot breath exhaled on the schemer's neck despite it's curve as he gives a little love-bite to the shoulder before him.

The slate-haired man's hands are on him as soon as he's moving, wringing a guttural moan from the shorter's throat. He'd be willing help in the pleasure of the younger, but the closeness of their bodies provides the blonde all the friction he needs inside of his movements.

The wild beat the sitarist has set for them is a heavenly tempo that Zexion can easily lose himself in, reaching for that golden something so deeply hidden inside the male above him that he doesn't care that his normally impassive face is breaking in ecstasy. Demyx would smile, if he could, were his own brow not knitted in earth-cracking paradise.

When heaven's finally caught in peach palm, they're bathed in the white light together, skin tingling with something ethereal. And it's so clear, so clean when their bodies meet to rest.

There are blue hand prints on Demyx's hips, Zexion realizes despite his hazy glance, and his lover writhes blissfully ignorant as he cleans them up with a wicked tongue.


End file.
